Three Ring Circus
by Dr Whatsit
Summary: Three days and she had only passed him in the hall, perhaps if they had talked sooner they could have devised a plan of action that would have successfully seen everyone in separate corners.


**Three Ring Circus**

* * *

This was supposed to be amusing, wasn't it? Two grown men bickering childishly at the bedside of a sick patient – claiming territory in all truth.

Natalie had no one to spar with over the dead ones.

This was due, in part, to the strange trick of fate that had spared her the melodrama of actually interacting with the other team of doctors. Blood tests and autopsies were fairly insulating and isolating tasks – no one cared what the doctors behind the scenes were doing, and Natalie would be hard pressed to say she preferred anything different.

The NIH was never asked to intervene here for a reason. At this particular hospital, where the staff was caught in a perpetual soap opera of professional and personal problems, the strictly professional input of Stephen Connor and his ilk were hardly appreciated. Despite this, Dr. House and Dr. Connor remained interchangeable names in the medical community; one merely threw verbal barbs while the other threw punches.

Both saved lives; their methods questionable.

Natalie held no particular fondness for the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, even if it did have more warmth than the gray halls of the NIH. Nor did she find herself reaching tenderly to Dr. Foreman, Dr. Chase or Dr. Cameron, although the letter was a feminized version Miles.

Foreman was too draining, and Chase was too flippant. The three together – bickering over House's approval – was cause for a permanent headache. Natalie had, in a most hopeful attempt, isolated herself in the morgue and let everyone else fight over the unimportant drivel.

Her actions had been wise, for alliances had been born between Dr. Cameron and Miles, the two dutifully being overly kind to the patients, as well as between Foreman, Connor, and Frank. She didn't exactly know how each had formed and had only been thankful that she had been able to do her lab work and autopsies in peace. Only once did she have to instruct Connor and House to move their arguments out into the hall where she wouldn't have to hear them.

House hadn't given her immunity to his scathing remarks, however, finding time here and there to mock her lab-rat standing, poke fun at her nickname ("Gnat, as in a swarm of...?"), and drop dramatic hints about nonexistent sordid affairs between Stephen and herself. She'd contemplated threatening him with the sharp end of her scalpel, but Stephen had promised to break House's good knee with his famous cane if he finished the candid thought.

"Seldom will you find House acting like an adult," a friendly voice floated into the glass surrounded room, causing Natalie to tear her eyes away from the two superiors.

Keeping her arms crossed loosely over her chest, she raised an eyebrow in agreement before turning back to the scene, "Seldom will you find Connor acting like a child. Petulant, maybe, but child, never."

"House _does_ have an effect on people," Dr. Wilson sidled up next to her, his arms hanging limply at his sides as he chose to share what had recently been her private moment. "Dr. Durant, right?"

Natalie gave an imperceptible nod. It wasn't unfriendly, she was merely focusing heavily on the two men arguing.

"I've read your articles," Wilson's tone didn't betray any view he might have held toward them, "I was sad to see that you had chose to hide away when you got here but not surprised. It's..."

"Overwhelming," she finished, giving a sideways glance bereft of anything but slight mirth; his boyish shrug and grin drew a smile of her own. "Different teams work different ways," she admitted, "and no single way is the right way."

"But the methods shouldn't mix," he offered, finishing with words she had been alluding to.

"Exactly...Dr?"

"James Wilson," he held out a hand and she accepted it, giving it a firm but gentle shake.

"You're not a part of Dr. House's assortment?" She asked, knowing the answer.

Shoving his hands into his lab coat pockets, Wilson shook his head, "No, although, I occasionally make an appearance as the hopeful voice of reason."

Natalie cast her glance in the direction of the two feuding males who were still going strong over the sleeping patient. She wondered how offended Stephen would be when she scolded him for this behavior later. "No appearance this time, though?"

He gave a sort of chuckle that drew her attention to him again, her eyes glued momentarily to the effortless charm, "I'm hopeful, Dr. Durant, but not an idiot. This is one game of tug-of-war I don't mind staying out of."

Natalie could share the sentiment, she herself having purposely avoided of the majority of this mess.

The smile she gave him this time was warmer than her previous. Three days and she had only passed him in the hall, perhaps if they had talked sooner they could have devised a plan of action that would have successfully seen everyone in separate corners. She would have dealt with the lab and autopsies, Miles and Dr. Cameron the patients, Foreman and Connor in charge of the tests, and House would have been given the opportunity to put his diagnostic skills at work from his office, presumably handcuffed to his desk so he couldn't get out.

Wilson watched her glance in the direction of House and Stephen and came to a conclusion of his own, "Who are you hoping to keep in line, Dr. Connor or House?"

Without looking she answered with a shrug, "Connor, mostly."

"I hear he has a violent streak," Wilson continued conversationally

"Would you like me to list what I've heard about House?" She fired back, reproachful but gentle, the challenge there but not overwhelming in her tone.

"No," he strung out the word, seeming to understand the unstated protectiveness she felt toward her superior. He'd seen it enough in himself and in House's underlings. "I could tell you about his addiction and the sarcasm at the expense of his patients; it's no secret."

She snorted lightly, "House is a double-edged sword, rude to coworkers and to the general population. Connor throws a few punches," she motioned toward Stephen's flexed biceps, "and he demands a lot from us, but he's no..." _House? Ass?_ Were the meanings the same? Were the men, in their own way, the same as well?

No, Stephen was stuck in misery, he didn't wallow in it. House wallowed – no swam, and splashed it at all those who dared to stray too near.

"It's hard, having faith in people like them," Wilson's expression was one that hoped to link them in an odd kinship. "And usually no one does. But, there are people like us for a reason."

Looking down, she hummed in amusement and smiled, "I like to think I went to medical school to help my patients not my boss."

Grinning, he looked ready to give her shoulder a pat, "Sometimes, Dr. Durant, our bosses _and_ friends make the most important patients."

She looked up without his touch, eyes betraying her understanding. "They'll hurt each other. Or, at least, Stephen will hurt him if we don't interfere."

Returning his hands to his pockets, Wilson leaned backward slightly, his eyes moving from her face to the two men on the other side of the glass. His sigh told her that he agreed, "Well, I suppose it's not too late to speak reason to someone who never listens."

As she turned to lead the way to the door, he continued hopefully, "And when we're done failing to prevent Dr. Connor's fist from meeting House's jaw, perhaps we can talk strategy over a cup of coffee?"

Denial was quick to manifest itself in her mind. She didn't know this man beyond his charm and their shared mission. _No_ was an easy word to say to people she didn't know or trust as far as she could throw. Because, really, could she trust him? Not likely, not if he was a part of the three-ring circus that was this hospital.

Despite her logic, Natalie found herself turning, a wry smile betraying wary thoughts.

"If we fail, I'm afraid we'll be needing more than one cup."


End file.
